Ifyou not a frequent psych ward patient this experience can surely change your view about mental health and leave you fucking stinking like your shoe sweat after unpacking all your clothes from the transparent plastic bag that they gave you coming in and putting them on before leaving the hospital.
As for the first time patient, it is embarrassing, scary and makes you wonder if they will let you out or make you stay against your will? You start questioning yourself, am I fucking crazy? Is this what drinking does to people? You know you are in trouble when the view and feelings that you experience while being drunk present itself during “sober time.” As they wheel you through the hospital, you hope there won’t be a lot of people seeing you go in. Fuck it is embarrassing to be a mental patient. My plan is not to be combatant, so I admitted myself in. Just to be clear, I never was a problem in the first place while spending my time in ER, right there on the bed, in the corner reserved only for junkies at the hallway, where security guard watches over everyone. Fuck my headache is unbelievable and just 12 hours ago I was trying to keep on making myself drunk with 12 pack Modelo beer after my almost empty gin bottle was taken away from me.
It does not help seeing an armored door in front of me. WTF did I get myself into? Uneasiness takes over, and I start feeling uncomfortable with my decision. Next follows strip search and my regret being here. I am fucking shitlessly scared. It doesn’t help seeing a bunch of whacky crazy ducks sitting in the lobby that happens to be a group time room, meaning therapy place. My judgment rises to the extreme level, and I start remembering all the psych ward movies I have watched. I’m maybe a drunktard but not a psycho. These ducks just sitting there and chatting like they have no fucking clue where they at and do not see that all the windows have metal bars on them. It felt like a different country.
I wonder how badly do these people are fucked up in their heads? Will I get stabbed with the pencil?- Oh, how lovely, they take all pencils away before bed time….
It’s hard to decide which is worst? 1) Having to find right words to tell your family member that you are locked up in a crazy house. 2) Realizing that all the shitters in the patient rooms have no door locks so, therefore, no possibility of sexually loving yourself. Fak, this is frustrating, although I found a way one night to help myself….
I remember looking through the metal window bars during my first minutes alone after being admitted(my roommate was out) to the unit: It was still winter outside. I could hear the noise of passing cars, see dirty snow and it was getting dark. I felt depression taking over and that feeling of worry starting to hurt my chest. I sat on an old bed and looked around: even all the furniture was old and rusty. I gave my best try not to cry. I was alone in this.
X’S FOR DOUBLE BACON AND WALKING IN CIRCLES
By the time I left the psych ward, I had become that crazy duck myself. The highlights of the day in the psych ward are as follows:
1. Choosing shit to order from menu
2. Walking in circles at the unit during free time
They did have a tv, but one of the patients was a severe dumb fuck who wouldn’t stop talking about drugs; unfortunately, that’s the case of a person being totally in denial about their addiction.
I was fortunate to get such a wonderful roommate who one morning proudly announced that if you put more x’s to the item you are ordering, you might get lucky and get more of it. Fantastico!!!
FIRST SOBER REALIZATION
Fuck, all these people have severe mental problems that are beyond their capability to deal with. Most of them are being heavily medicated, some of them are too deep into drugs, or they just want to kill themselves and me???
I am just a fucking pussy…